


Incommunicado

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [22]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Episode Related: Season 17 (various), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance, Some Humor, Vacation, obviously ON A BOAT, where's Fin been anyway?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How about this: you leave your phone in the room, I’ll change in to my other swim shorts, which are, as you suggest, somewhat more <i>decent</i>.”</p><p>“This entire trip is going to be one bargaining session after another, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incommunicado

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThetaSigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/gifts), [ALiteraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALiteraryLady/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Vacation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170794) by [Nemesis (ThetaSigma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/Nemesis), [ThetaSigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma). 



> So this started as an extended joke (and rant fest) about where the hell Fin's been for the past few episodes of season 17, especially as his presence has been seriously missed in "Star-Struck Victims" and "Manhattan Transfer". Several of us on tumblr decided he had to be on vacation with Munch—a Caribbean cruise, to be precise...at least that became my head canon! Therefore a story had to be written.
> 
> This is for ThetaSigma, who had similar thoughts (see related work) but I think our stories are different enough to both be enjoyed. And who can complain about more Munch & Fun smuttiness in the world? Not I. And also for ALiteraryLady, who encouraged me to keep going when I was in a bit of a writing funk about halfway through finishing this. *Love and hugs to my friends in Munch and Fin appreciation!*
> 
> Characters are property of NBC/Dick Wolf. This story was written purely for fun and not for profit.

“Sunscreen lotion?”

“Check.”

“Two pairs of swim trunks each?”

“Check.”

“Hats and beach sandals?”

“Check and check.”

“Extra-large bottle of lube?”

“You know _that’s_ a check.”

“Emergency medical kit including band aids, aspirin, antidiarrhoeal—and don’t forget my dramamine...”

 _“John!”_ Fin interrupted with an exasperated sigh, waving his hand at the bed. One could barely see there actually _was_ a bed under there, beneath everything currently piled upon it, laid out for their vacation. “It’s all here. See for yourself before we gotta figure out how to cram this in our bags. ’Sides, we forget anything, we’ll get it on the ship.”

“Do you know how much they mark up everything on those boats?! That one bottle of sunscreen right there would cost us twenty dollars alone.”

“Practically cost us twenty dollars already ’cause you refuse to get a CVS card so we can get the sale price.”

John opened his mouth to no doubt launch into his regular argument against giving away personal information to drug stores, but Fin silenced him the best way he knew how: with a kiss that muffled any and all further protests. Squeezing John’s shoulders reassuringly, he followed the kiss with gentle words meant to quiet his husband’s forever anxious mind. “Ain’t need but one thing this vacation and I got it right here already. So stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m being thorough. _You’re_ the one who’s been so concerned about taking the time off from work that I practically had to kidnap you away from the precinct. Trust me, Fin, the Sixteenth isn’t going to go to Hell because you’re away for not even two whole weeks.”

“I hope not.”

“I _know_ it won’t.” John gave Fin one of his own kisses, a promise of the time they had ahead to devote to nothing but each other. “Now let’s get this stuff packed so we can make use of this bed tonight, since your vacation officially started as of this evening.”

“Works for me,” Fin agreed, although inside he was still trying to squelch his nagging thoughts about going away. It wouldn’t be _that_ long, he told himself. Eight days on the cruise. One night before and one night after in Puerto Rico, and then their flight back to New York.

Fin _did_ feel guilty leaving the squad for that length of time—leaving Amanda especially, since she wasn’t back that long from maternity leave and still finding her new routine for balancing work and baby. But, John kept insisting, that was precisely why Fin deserved this time away.

 _“You’ve been shouldering so many extra hours on the job while Rollins was on desk duty and then on leave, some days I can barely remember what you look like—and I swear it’s not due to senility. Yet,”_ John had groused at him. And John had booked the cruise, made all of the arrangements, even paying for a deluxe balcony room and numerous excursions as his Chrismukkah present for Fin this past December. So Fin felt truly guilty about, well, feeling guilty about taking the time off.

But he was going to try his best to please John and leave work behind him for a while. Enjoy himself. Enjoy the time away with his lover, his husband...the time they’d long talked about spending together before they both got too old to go adventuring around the world. Neither one of them had traveled as much as they would have liked to in the past, so now was the time to start making the effort to do precisely that.

As they worked on packing clothes, toiletries and everything else in their luggage, John suddenly demanded, “What’s this?” waving a handful of wires and plugs in Fin’s face.

“My cell and pad chargers, my—”

“Oh no you don’t. We agreed, remember? No cell phones. No gadgets. No wifi. We are going off the grid.”

“I _need_ my cellphone. What if there’s an emergency back here at home?”

“You’re going to be over a thousand miles away on a cruise ship. There’s nothing you’ll be able to do even if there _is_ an emergency.”

“What if something happens to you or me, and we need to get in touch with each other?”

“We’re going to be on. a. fucking. boat. Fin. Only so far we can go. I think we’ll be able to find each other. You _do_ realize that people managed to function and survive without having to be constantly tethered to their phones in the not all that distant past, don’t you?”

“Yes, I _know,_ John. But you want me to take this vacation, I’m taking my damn phone,” Fin said. “I promise I won’t use it unless it’s a real emergency. No calls from work, no calls _to_ work.”

“You promise.”

“Swear to God.”

“I thought you were an Atheist.” Fin glowered and John shrugged in defeat. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that promise. In fact I’m going to demand payment in the form of blow jobs as long as and for every time you actually pick up that fucking thing while we’re away.”

“Baby, ain’t much of a punishment, you realize that, don’t you?”

John threw a pair of underwear in Fin’s face. Fin rolled it up and stuck it in his luggage—right next to his cell phone charger and his phone’s waterproof case.

 

* * *

“Now I remember why I don’t travel long distances with you,” Fin complained as they walked along the beach outside their hotel in Puerto Rico.

“And why is that, my love?”

“Even gettin’ to the airport two hours early, we still almost missed our damn flight thanks to that scene you made at security.”

“I’m sorry if I refuse to subject myself to a virtual strip search that does nothing to stop actual terrorists from blowing up planes and only jams up our rights to privacy yet again.”

“Think you just wanted to get felt up by that cute TSA agent instead of going through the full body scanner.”

“Fine. Let’s see where we are in twenty years, if no one takes a stand for freedom.”

“If we’re on vacation from work and I’m not supposed to check my phone, then I want a vacation from your conspiracy bullshit. That’s the stand I’m takin’ right now.”

“All right, I’ll accept that bargain.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

With the late afternoon sun overhead and the warm sand under their feet, Fin almost wished they were staying put here on Puerto Rico for the next ten days. Beach, sunshine, a nice hotel, a good bed (which they’d already put to use once, as soon as they’d checked in), John’s company (even when they bickered over stupid shit, that was merely their way)...what more did he need?

But John had liked the idea of seeing a number of different places, of exploring and not simply staying in one place, and this had been his trip to plan. So tomorrow afternoon they’d be off to the cruise ship dock and on their way to seeing more islands than Fin could remember. He wasn’t much for worrying the details about that; he’d leave it all in John’s capable hands.

“Hold up for one sec,” Fin said, stopping John by putting his arm about his shoulders.

“What now?”

“One reason I wanted my phone on this trip that has nothing to do with keeping in touch back home.” Fin pulled his cell out of his shirt pocket and hit the camera button, then tried to hold it at an angle to get a decent photo of the two of them with the Caribbean Sea in the background.

“Never figured you for the selfie type.”

“Rollins wanted some pics. So do I.” He snapped a couple pictures before he could get one where John wasn’t making a ridiculous face at the camera, or at him. He then put the phone back in his pocket to appease John’s temper, but not before claiming what started as a quick kiss but quickly turned into a much longer one. What did he care? He was far from home, there weren’t many people out on the beach at this time of the day, he could let down his usual reserve about public displays of affection a little bit.

John didn’t seem to mind at all.

That evening they ended up at an open-air restaurant along the beach for dinner, sipping potent rum punches and enjoying grilled snapper against the background of a tropical sunset. It felt strange, such a change of scenery from the gritty streets of New York or even the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood of their Brooklyn apartment. Strange in a way that could take Fin a few days to get used to; he was a city boy who’d rarely spent any time outside of a city in his life, save his stints in the army and those didn’t really count.

At one point during dinner, John got up to find the bathroom and Fin surreptitiously used the opportunity to quickly check his phone, shoot off one of his beach photos to Amanda. She replied almost instantly.

**_AW!!!! Have fun and don’t worry about work!!!_ **

**_I won’t,_** he replied. **_I promised._**

“Are you checking your phone?” John demanded, returning to his seat.

“Only looking at my photos.”

“Uh huh.”

“Swear it.”

“Right. I hear that thing go off tonight and you’re getting a spanking.”

“Again, babe, you gotta think of ways to punish me that I’m not gonna enjoy.”

“Maybe that’s my point,” John said, looking down over the tops of his sunglasses and giving Fin a dirty look and a wink. Even after all these years that look was enough to make Fin’s stomach flutter in anticipation, even as he couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the same time.

“Then I think I need another a round of these before we get back to our hotel.” Fin raised his nearly drained glass and John clinked it in agreement.

 

* * *

“Fucking Hell...how many of those rum punches did we drink last night?” John groaned, sounding as miserable as Fin felt at this particular moment in time.

“Dunno...lost count...think they oughta call ’em rum uppercuts.”

Fortunately their ship wasn’t set to depart San Juan until the evening and John had arranged for a late-checkout from their hotel. The hangover Fin was nursing didn’t exactly leave him in the mood to go rushing about, nor even exploring much of what this island had to offer. Then again, when was the last time Fin had a good excuse to lay around in bed all day with his husband, snuggling, kissing, napping...if it weren’t for his lingering headache, he really wouldn’t have any reason to complain. “Where’s those damn aspirin you made sure we packed?” he asked, burying his face in the pillows.

“Hold on, I’ll get them. And I’m going to order up some breakfast if they’re still serving.”

“’Kay.”

Fin nearly dozed off again as he heard John shuffling about and speaking quietly into their room’s phone.

“Thirty minutes until sustenance arrives. Want to wait on the aspirin?”

“Nah. I’ll risk an upset stomach to get rid of this headache.”

Fin took the pills John handed him, sitting up long enough to swallow them down with a few gulps of water. John slipped back into bed, spooning against Fin and treating the back of his neck to delicate, feathery kisses. “So much for our first full day in the islands,” John said.

“I’ll take it. Maybe after we eat, I’ll feel alive enough to hit the beach for a little sunshine...” Fin rolled over in John’s embrace, taking in the sight of him with mussed-up bedhead, his eyes a little bloodshot from the night before. Somehow it was still sexy as everything. John always was, to Fin, in his adorably peculiar way. “Or maybe I’ll just want to fuck you real slow, all fuckin’ afternoon like we never get the time to at home.”

“I would not object to that particular plan...”

Whispers of what he intended to do to John began to turn into actions, his hands caressing familiar territory, moving on instinct where his muddled brain power still failed him. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to wait until after their breakfast arrived when he heard a muffled buzzing noise.

His phone. Someone was trying to reach him.

“Thought you turned that off,” John said in an annoyed voice.

“Thought I did too. Sorry.”

“You’re not answering.”

“Promise.” He was, after all, engaged in much more pressing matters at the moment—including but not limited to John’s erection pressing into his thigh and demanding immediate attention.

So it was some time later, after breakfast in bed, after one last good fuck in said bed, as John was checking their bathroom for anything left behind before checking out, that Fin snuck a second to listen to his voicemail.

One message from Carisi, asking if he knew where a particular file was. Another from Rollins, saying she was sorry, really _really_ sorry to bother him but if he had a minute, could he call her back?

_“Just a minute, I swear. This case suddenly blew up and I could use some advice. Have fun!”_

He debated sending her a quick text in response but not now; maybe later once they got settled in on the boat. Guilt tickled at the back of his mind for a moment and then he shook it off, putting his phone away before John rejoined him and could see he had even looked.

Vacation. He needed this. And everyone at the Sixteenth needed to learn to get along without him for a change.

 

* * *

“Oh Hell, no. You are _not_ going to the beach today in _that._ ”

“Why not? You’re the one who said I needed to get some color on my—as you lovingly always refer to it—not merely bony but pasty white ass.”

“Yeah, but that don’t mean you need to blind everyone in the vicinity with that much skin. Please tell me your spare swim trunks are a little more...decent.” Fin wasn’t sure what horrified him more: the knowledge that John actually _owned_ a little red speedo or the fact that he was actually considering wearing it out in public. That combined with his hibiscus-patterned Hawaiian shirt, oversized straw hat and flip flops made for, well, a sight that wasn’t exactly for sore eyes but certainly could cause them.

They would be docking soon in St. Thomas, the first port of call on the cruise. And dammit, as much as he loved John, he didn’t think he could handle being out in public with him planning on wearing that outfit on the beach.

Of course, Fin’s phone rang at that very moment. Amanda’s ringtone. That was the third time she’d tried to reach him since yesterday morning. John shot a death glare in the phone’s general direction, which was slightly less effective than normal given his current attire.

“Sorry. Was charging it up to take some photos today.”

“Taking photos distracts from actually enjoying and experiencing the moment. How about this: you leave your phone in the room, I’ll change in to my other swim shorts, which are, as you suggest, somewhat more _decent_.”

“This entire trip is going to be one bargaining session after another, isn’t it?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

* * *

St. Thomas made for a pleasant adventure for the day: sailing off on a catamaran to a remote beach, enjoying a barbecue luncheon of burgers, grilled chicken and tropical drinks, and alternating between lying on the beach and splashing around in the calm Caribbean waves until it was time to head back to the cruise shit. And Fin had to admit, it had been nice leaving his phone back in his room and not having to worry about it getting wet, left or lost at the beach...or having to deal with any more messages or attempted calls from his coworkers.

The next day found them at sea on their way to Barbados, which would be their second port of call. Fin felt good relaxing on the deck, sipping a cold drink and occasionally cooling off in the pool. He was starting to get the hang of this vacation routine: get up, fuck, have breakfast, chill, eat, chill, fuck some more and then collapse in bed until the next morning.

John lay sprawled out on a pool chair beside him, at the moment taking a light nap, ass-up, trying to get a little color on his back. Fin _did_ have his phone with him at the moment, and had caught up on a few text messages with the office while John was dozing. Somehow Amanda had gotten herself into some serious shit with ’Liv, something about going undercover without clearance, but Fin didn’t need to know or _want_ to know all the details. All he did know was Amanda was bitching at him about how unfair ’Liv was treating her, and ’Liv was bitching at him about how Amanda was a loose canon and he really needed to do something about her when he got back, Carisi still couldn’t find that file and Fin was almost ready to toss his phone in the pool and tell them all to grow the fuck up already.

He was also using his phone to monitor their sun time, and a _ding_ announced that it was time he wake up John and get him to turn over. “Yo, John,” he said, incapable of resisting a light slap on that tempting backside to accent his words.

“Wha.”

“Time to flip over before you turn into a lobster. And I’d better lotion your back up again.”

“Hmmm. Okay. No complaints about that.”

John sat up and Fin reached for the sunscreen. He scooted his own chair a little closer so he could easily reach John’s shoulders, smiling as John sucked in his breath at the cool lotion hitting his heated skin.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah. Mmm. I could sit here all day while you keep doing that.”

“And I would, but I’m gonna need you to do the same for me in a few.”

“Feel you up in public? Gladly.”

Fin snorted and pressed a kiss to the back of John’s neck, right at his hairline because he knew John always shivered a little when he did that. But then Fin heard someone making a loud, rude noise not far from where they were seated. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the pool chairs nearest to them had been occupied by another couple. They looked to be the stereotypical picture of middle America, and not in a good way: the woman in a shapeless plain blue beach mumu, oversized sunglasses and floppy hat; him in a _Duck Dynasty_ t-shirt and a red “Make America Great Again” baseball cap. But it wasn’t their attire and physical appearance so much as the clear disgust on their faces, aimed in John and Fin’s direction, that made them particularly ugly.

“I thought those people had their _own_ cruise ships these days,” the woman said to the man, not too loudly but loud enough to be clear she intended to be overheard. Fin sighed and turned away, determined to ignore them and their bigotry; to his mind, quiet resistance and refusing to give stupidity any kind of audience or response could often go a lot further than confrontation. However, John rarely remained so passive, and Fin feared for the worst as John spun around on his chair so he could take in the sight of their critics himself.

“I’m sorry, but precisely _which_ people are you referring to?” he asked the woman, in a _so-polite-I-could-cut-you_ tone of voice. “Fags, jews, or blacks? I know the two of us make for a cornucopia of potential moral outrage and offense.”

“John...” Fin warned under his breath. “Don’t start.”

The woman stared, open-mouthed, looking completely flustered at having her rudeness dished straight back at her. The husband, clearly uncomfortable at where this was leading, quietly said, “C’mon, Marge,” and hustled the woman to her feet, grabbing their beach towels to set off for somewhere else to sit.

“Maybe your savior Donald Trump will build us that boat of our own, huh? After he gets done with that wall of his?” John called after them.

“John!” Fin hissed.

“Ignorant assholes.”

“Yeah, the world is filled with them, news at eleven. Let’s not start a fight and get thrown off the boat, all right?”

Fin’s phone buzzed against the table where their drinks rested, announcing the arrival of yet another text message.

“I’m going to throw that fucking thing overboard soon,” John snapped.

“Not if I do it first, and I’m getting real goddamned close.”

“I told you.”

“Yes, you did. And I’m going to ignore it. Like _you_ should ignore anyone who has a problem with us being here.” Fin placed a kiss on the tip of John’s nose, just to be silly and try to diffuse his anger. That successfully brought on a smile, and Fin had to kiss him again, tasting the sweetness of the Mai Tai he’d been drinking, breathing in the scent of sea air and suntan lotion on his skin.

“I say we scandalize every fucking Republican on this boat,” Fin said.

“God, Fin, you know how to talk dirty to me. Now let me oil up that back of yours, lover boy, while you keep talking politics.”

“Imagine Ted Cruz on his hands and knees, licking Marco Rubio's boots. Or with a ball gag in his mouth while he takes a good whipping. How's them family values for you.”

_“Oh, baby.”_

 

* * *

The next few days they visited several more islands, enjoying those special excursions John had arranged when booking the cruise. On Barbados they spent the morning at the beach before taking a tour of a rum distillery, where they picked up a few bottles to take home with them to try to master their own version of the “Rum Uppercut”.

St. Lucia proved the most beautiful and lush island of their trip, perfect for a hiking expedition over streams and bridges and getting in a little physical activity of the non-sexual kind. St. Kitts was uniquely rich with British colonial history, and Fin practically had to drag John out of the old Brimstone Hill fortress and museum before they missed getting back on the boat for the evening.

At night they kept busy with their own activities and private methods of entertainment, far more interesting and exciting than the rather pedestrian shows (certainly in comparison to what they had to choose from back in New York City) offered up by the ship. So Fin was surprised, on the sixth night of their cruise, when John insisted they dress up for the evening. He’d said they should each bring one good suit for the trip but Fin hadn’t really thought he’d need to wear it.

“Thought we were on vacation, and vacation means leaving the work clothes at home,” he complained as he slipped on his suit jacket.

“Work clothes? Fin, the only time I ever get to see you in a suit these days is when you have to go to court.” John stepped in to adjust Fin’s tie, smiling as he did so. “I know you’re allergic to business attire and it’s a shame when you look so good in it.”

Fin shook his head. He never felt right or like himself in this kind of attire, but he’d wear it tonight if it made John happy. As far as he was concerned, John was the one who always looked impeccably sharp in a suit and tie, and he’d picked one of Fin’s favorites to bring with him and wear tonight: a soft charcoal grey jacket and vest, lighter grey shirt, and a patterned tie in cobalt blue and black. No man ever had looked as sexy in a suit as his John did, like one Hell of a tall glass of water he wanted to drink dry...but that would have to wait until later. “So are we doing the captain’s table or something for dinner?”

“Or something.” John checked his watch. “And that something should be arriving any minute now.”

Sure enough, someone knocked on their cabin door a few minutes later as Fin wondered what they were waiting around for. “What’s this?”

“Dinner,” John announced, opening the door to greet the bell boy, who introduced himself before hurrying out to set their patio table with dinnerware—and flowers. “I arranged for private dinner on the balcony tonight. You, me, champagne and an elegant meal under the stars,” John explained. “Hey,” he tugged Fin closer by the lapels of his jacket, “I get you all dressed up like this, you think I want to share you with anyone else tonight?”

Fin shook his head, feeling a little overwhelmed. Beneath all that cynicism and snark, at heart John was nothing if not a hopeless romantic. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“After all of these years, you still haven’t figured that out? Indulge me, of course. Then fuck me senseless.”

Dinner couldn’t have been any more wonderful. It wasn’t so much the food, although Fin had no complaints about any of the four-course indulgence: crab cakes, lobster bisque, steak, chocolate mousse. It was a cliché of romantic extravagance but it was a cliché for good reason. But more than that, he simply enjoyed this private time alone together, and seeing John this happy and relaxed.

“You really went all out on this trip,” Fin said, as they were finishing off the last of the champagne.

“We deserved it. You _deserve_ it, Fin. Everything you do on the job...you’re as vital to the Sixteenth as anyone else there today, even if you don’t like to be out on the forefront or take as much credit as you deserve. I told you the place wouldn’t fall apart while you were gone, but judging by your phone I think it’s clear your presence is greatly missed.”

“What _I_ miss are the days when we worked together.”

“I do, too. Sometimes. Other times I’m glad my tenure there is over.”

“You know, not to drag work into things too much but...I’ve been thinkin’ again if I should take the sergeant’s exam after all,” Fin admitted. “I know you said a lot of it was a big pain in the ass, but...when Dodds came in last year out of nowhere and now I gotta be reporting to this guy? I mean, he’s not bad, now that he’s getting broken in to how things work at SVU, but...”

“...I’m sure the last thing you really want at this point in your career is to be taking orders from another skinny tall white guy, am I right?”

Fin shook his head and grinned. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do it. For yourself, if that’s what you really want. Though if you pass and Dodds stays, it could mean a potential transfer.”

“I have a feeling Dodds isn’t in SVU for the long haul, even if he is getting used to it.”

“Well, see how you feel when you get back, with a clear mind and having been away from it all for a while. Funny, but you’re getting close to the age I was when I finally gave in and took the test. I did it because I thought it was time to perhaps ease up on the field work, get you working with a younger partner who could watch your back better.”

“Which I resented the Hell out of at the time, makin’ a decision like that without letting me know.”

“Believe me, I remember.” John reached across the table to take Fin’s hand, and for a moment Fin regretted bringing up this particular discussion. That hadn’t exactly been the best time in their relationship for a number of reasons, from the aftermath of Darius’ trial to Fin being assigned Chester Lake as his new partner, but they’d gotten through it all. In the long run it had only made them stronger in their commitment to each other, but there had been a few moments when he thought it might actually tear them apart.

John’s smile then was soft, vulnerable, vaguely apologetic and Fin wouldn’t have any of that, not now. “I remember, too, how you were there for me when I was ready to transfer out. When I felt like there was no one else I could trust or rely on any more...you were still there for me. I already loved you, John, but after all of that...I knew, I really knew, we would always be together. That this was it, this was endgame, you ’n me.”

“Took you that long to figure it out, did you?”

“Shut up,” Fin said with a smile. “Now how about we get this stuff cleaned up and out of here? I need to be getting on with the fucking you senseless part of the evening.”

The bell boy was summoned, and the remnants of dinner cleared away while the two men enjoyed the balcony view a few more minutes. Once they were alone again, Fin led John back inside, turning the cabin lights down low but not off entirely.

John laid back on the bed, kicking off his shoes and slightly loosening his tie, glasses tucked away on the nightstand, but not making an effort to otherwise strip. Fin grinned; he knew this was an invitation to take his time, to slowly enjoy every moment of undressing instead of jumping full steam ahead. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up over John on his hands and knees, lowering his head for a slow, deliberate kiss. John reached up to touch him, caressing his sides, slipping hands beneath his jacket, until Fin sat up such that he could shrug it off over his shoulders.

“Stay there like that,” John said, hand reaching out to rub at the front of Fin’s pants.

“John...”

John’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment; Fin knew it got to him, when he said his name, like that. Such a simple little thing but he loved seeing the response it earned him. “Stay there, unbutton your shirt for me, slowly.”

Fin did as he was told. When it came to taking orders, the only man he wanted to take them from was John. He loved the way John’s eyes devoured his body, his hand exerting the most teasing, wonderful pressure against his groin. Fin undid the buttons, one at a time, then tugged his shirt free of his pants. He could no longer hold back from claiming another kiss, leaning back down over John, moaning as he felt John’s hands slide up his bare chest now, massaging...then sliding the shirt down over his arms, off his body. He was getting hard, but enjoyed the gentle building of his desire.

“My turn,” Fin said, sitting up again to take in the image of John in his beautiful suit one more time. He ran his fingers over the front of his chest, that vest and shirt and the fine fabric feeling so good under his hands. Of course, John’s skin would feel even better, but he’d get there eventually. He started with the buttons of the vest, eyes on John as he worked each one loose in turn. For a moment, in his mind, he drifted back to days long past. The early days of their relationship when he’d struggled not just with undressing John, at times, but simply understanding the depths of his desire for him. How he’d come to lust for this man with his dark hair and deep eyes, his curious face that somehow Fin had come to find so beautiful.

Time passed and that dark hair had turned to silver; that face was older, now, but no less beautiful to Fin. Every day he woke up to the sight of his love beside him, that face peaceful in sleep or awaiting the opening of his eyes with a loving smile, was a day for which he was thankful.

“Where are you, love?” John asked with a wistful smile. “Dreaming about one of those sexy young studs by the pool this morning?”

“I got my sexy stud right here.” He knew John was only teasing him; their commitment to each other was too strong to ever waver to the trivial attractions of another. Fin continued his slow work of undressing John, moving on to completely slipping loose the knot of his tie, snapping off his suspenders, then starting on the buttons of his shirt. “Dunno how you could wear all these layers in this heat,” Fin complained, even as he enjoyed the work, seeing the undershirt still there beneath.

“Because I thrive on your torment, of course.”

Finally he got his hands on bare skin, a small patch of stomach as he tugged that undershirt from out of John’s waistband. He shifted until he could lean down and kiss that skin, rub against it with his chin, waiting for the expected tremors of suppressed laughter as his goatee tickled sensitive flesh. He kept kissing, teasing as his hands pushed clothing up and out of his way, until he had John moaning, struggling to shrug out of his undone clothes.

Fin went to work on John’s pants, at last, beginning to reach the limit of his patience for delayed gratification. He could practically slide them down over John’s slim hips without unbuttoning them but he did slow down enough to do that first, then tugged off his briefs, all clothing finally shed and tossed aside over the edge of the bed.

“You did get some color this week,” Fin said appreciatively. “I like that tan line.”

“Better than the sunburn on my ears.”

“Told ya to be careful.” Fin undid and shimmied out of his own pants, not patient enough for John to undress him at this point. He needed to feel John against him naked, head to toe. He groaned as he lowered himself against his love’s body, kissing him again, breathing him in. “Let me kiss it ’n make it better.”

John sucked in his breath loudly as Fin went to lick and kiss one earlobe, resisting the urge to take a playful bite as he usually would. He wanted to tease, not cause pain if one of his favorite sensitive spots on John’s body was a little extra-sensitive at the moment. He gently tongued it instead, running up along the outer rim from the lobe to the helix, enjoying himself and the way it made John squirm. He could get off tonight, right now, on just the way their cocks were rubbing together in hot, rhythmic friction. But he’d promised to fuck John senseless and that was precisely what he intended to do.

When he didn’t think either of them could take any more of this ear teasing and torture, Fin slid down the bed, not pausing until he had John’s erection in his mouth, sucking on it hungrily. John nearly howled, Fin took him so deep, so fast, he ended up biting his fist to quiet himself. (They’d already had their neighbors banging on the cabin wall the other night; these rooms weren’t as sound-proofed as they might have hoped for.) Fin sucked and licked until John was rock hard, clearly getting close, but he wasn’t going to let him come quite yet. He urged John’s legs up, massaged the back of his thighs as his mouth moved further down, tongue licking at the tender skin of his perineum.

“Fuck, Fin, fuck that’s oh _fuck—_ ” John’s words dissolved into a strangled cry of pleasure, damn the neighbors at this point. In fact he hoped it was Marge and her husband next door to them. Fin didn’t stop, running his tongue back and forth, slicking up that skin and even licking at the entrance to his lover’s body until John had exhausted every swear word he knew—and in several different languages while he was at it. That was when Fin knew he’d better get on with things or else they’d probably have security at the door soon and not just several pissed off neighbors.

“Hold on, babe, don’t you dare move.” Fin quickly scrambled for the lube—good thing they’d packed that extra-large bottle the way they’d been going at it. He made swift work of preparing himself. He didn’t bother preparing John any more than he had already; he needed to be _inside, now_ and he knew John needed it, too. Now was the time for hard, fast fucking, John’s legs circling around him and he was sinking deep, falling into him, surrendering to the heat and tight embrace of his body. John’s hands gripped at the bed, the pillows, a sight of pure abandon and need, every muscle of his lean body drawn tight beneath his skin. Fin thrust in swift, desperate movements, not needing to draw it out any longer; he only wanted to come. Wanted to see John come for him without even needing to be stroked, just from being so close already, from the friction of their bodies and hitting him _right there_ like he knew he did every time he pushed a little deeper and John moaned a little louder than the last time.

“Love you, John. _My_ John,” Fin said, breathing hard, so close to the edge. “Come for me, right now.”

His words seemed to do the trick; they usually could, when John was this far gone. He knew by the sounds his lover made, by the way John gripped at his back that this was it and so he pumped into him even quicker, racing to match him in reaching climax.

Close, so very close. Fin came only seconds after he could feel it in John’s shuddering body, almost seeming to pass into Fin’s own like current coursing through crossed electrical wires. In fact it was so strong Fin felt like his brain was actually fried, momentarily, closing his eyes against the intensity of it and falling into brief darkness.

He opened his eyes to find himself limp and spent, sweaty and exhausted, head buried in the curve of John’s neck. “Did I black out?” he wondered aloud, and John tsked and chuckled at him.

“That champagne must’ve gone right to your head—or heads I should say, big and little ones combined.”

“Jesus, sorry.” Fin shifted so he wasn’t resting all of his weight on John, and happily settled into a contented snuggle.

“Don’t you dare apologize for incredible sex. Even if...ugh...I may cancel out on those plans to go horseback riding on the beach tomorrow. I’ll be lucky if I can walk straight. Or walk at all for that matter.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure out somethin’ good to do instead.” Fin looked into John’s eyes, still dreamily unfocused, smiled and for easily the thousandth time thanked whatever divine intervention or strange twist of fate had brought them together. That had allowed him to see beyond what he’d always thought he needed in his life and to realize what in fact he truly did: only this. “Least no one called me today.”

“If they did I was seriously going to throw your phone overboard.”

“We got one more day on this boat. You might get the chance yet.”

 

* * *

On St. Maarten, the final island of their itinerary before returning to Puerto Rico, they did decide to eschew horseback riding in favor of an island tour, then strolling the streets of busy Philipsburgh to shop for gifts for friends and family back home.

“Though I’m not sure why I’m getting certain people _anything_ the way they haven’t been able to leave me alone,” Fin bitched at John. After a quiet previous day, Amanda was back to blowing up his phone with voice mails and text messages but he refused to look at or listen to any of them. Carisi still couldn’t find that one fucking file and after telling him once where to find it, Fin wasn’t replying again. Olivia had at least finally stopped bugging him but he had a sense that didn’t necessarily bode well, all things considered.

The only person at the Sixteenth who _hadn’t_ been after him yet was Sergeant Dodds—which was admittedly one point in his favor.

After picking out some small trinkets and gifts for their friends, Fin was intent on finding something especially nice for John as a thank you for planning this entire getaway. He ended up choosing a white gold bracelet they saw in one of the island’s many jewelry stores, a Figaro link style to match the necklace Fin always wore. John wasn’t big on jewelry, in general, but the bracelet seemed perfect for him—lightweight and snug enough to the wrist that it wouldn’t get in his way, and Fin liked the way it looked on him. John liked that it was the same as Fin’s, so he could have that reminder close to him at all times, even when they weren’t together.

John then insisted on finding something special for Fin in return, something specific to this trip and where they’d been. They came across it together in a perfume shop selling scents custom blended and sold exclusively on the island. The cologne John chose for Fin held tropical notes of coconut and frangipani, along with a hint of warm spices and rum.

“What do you think?” John asked, taking a whiff of Fin’s wrist after it had been applied.

Fin breathed it in himself and wasn’t entirely certain. “I think I smell like a cocktail.”

“Tastier than one of those rum uppercuts, and that’s saying something.” John leaned down behind Fin’s ear and said, “Makes me want to get drunk on you tonight.”

“In that case, get the large size bottle. Maybe get two.”

 

* * *

Fin drew in his breath at the feeling of John’s body against his bare skin, the press of his lips on the back of his neck. “John—” he started but was shushed, even as the teeth nipping at his skin made him want to yelp.

“Quiet, remember? Don’t want to wake the neighbors. We’ve bothered them enough the last few nights.”

“Mmph. Can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Can’t believe I had to, Mister Let’s-Fuck-In-Cragen’s-Office-When-The-Captain’s-Away.”

“That was always _your_ doing.”

“Liar.”

Fin bit back his groan as John slipped a slick, cool finger inside of him, followed in short order by a second. Not that he needed much preparation at this point, after all of the sex they’d enjoyed the entire past week. But it _was_ a little different doing it in the semi-open like this: on their balcony, in the early morning pre-dawn hours, the cold railing clutched in Fin’s hands as the wind off the water danced on his skin.

But this was their last night on the cruise, which meant it was now or never. John had been teasing him with the promise of sex on the balcony all week, and Fin had finally worked up the courage to agree to it.

That and, well, one of those bottles of rum they bought on Barbados didn’t look like it would be lasting until the trip back home.

They had waited until late, as on other nights while sipping their drinks outside they’d heard the noise, chatter and laughter of others out on their not-quite-so-private-as-you’d-think balconies. They hadn’t heard anyone else fucking, but most nights they’d been too involved in their own such activities to notice.

“I need you, Fin,” John said harshly against his ear, three fingers in him now.

“Need you more.” Fin turned his head enough to meet John’s lips for an open mouthed kiss, sloppy and wet, laced with rum and the taste of each other already on their tongues from earlier activities. He sighed as those fingers slipped out from him, as he lost contact momentarily with John who was reaching for the lube again.

“Spread a little more...that’s it,” John encouraged, as Fin adjusted his position to accept John more easily. John grasped Fin’s hips and Fin struggled not to make a sound as he felt that hardness pressing against him, wanting inside. It was a good thing he was a little drunk and extra relaxed already; this position could be a little tricky, a little more painful at first but he trusted John to take his time.

He clenched the railing harder and bit back a whimper as the pressure and stretching increased. A small push and John was inside him, Fin shuddering and feeling a cold sweat instantly breaking out down his back.

“You okay?”

Fin breathed deeply, willed himself to relax more, and grunted in response. John went slowly, holding Fin’s hips steady, Fin gripping the railing tighter again and biting back the moans that ached to escape his lips. It was actually harder to relax when he couldn’t let out his tension vocally.

But then John slid one of his hands around to take Fin’s cock, stroking him and Fin _had_ to let out a groan at that.

“Quiet...” John scolded, even as he kept stroking, kept pushing deeper into Fin.

“Fuck, John...”

“Hard or slow, how you want it?”

“Hard. Quick. Before I lose my mind.” _Before I’m screamin’ 'cause I can’t take it,_ he thought to say, but then guessed that would only encourage John to take his time.

John obliged him, with the delightful work of his hand making the pain of penetration a soon distant memory. Fin was sure if he gripped the balcony railing any tighter his hands would start going numb, but it kept him from crying out, from making more than the smallest grunts. John was fully inside him, now, thrusting quick, mirroring the strokes of his hand. He dipped his head to lick at the sweat on Fin’s neck, setting off a trembling wave of delight through Fin’s body. This kind of fucking, animalistic and rough, wasn’t how they usually did it these days but that made it exciting, fresh...Fin needed to come hard and fast and his body was going to oblige him.

“Gonna come.”

“Then come for me, love. Love you so much, let me feel it.” John propelled him along with faster strokes of his hand, fingers swift and clever and with one extra deep thrust he took Fin right over the edge. Not crying out seemed to make Fin’s orgasm even stronger than usual, so intense he nearly lost his balance as he was trembling so hard. His legs felt like rubber, he was ready to collapse to the deck and might have if not for John still holding him tight, close, working toward his own release inside of Fin.

Fin couldn’t tell how long that took; he was too out of it, simply letting John use him and ride him until suddenly John made a muffled cry against his shoulder and held still, completely still for a moment. His grip lessened, then, changed into a softer embrace about Fin’s waist as he dropped his head to Fin’s shoulder with a deep and heavy sigh.

“You good, baby?”

“I’ll gonna need a vacation to recover from this vacation,” John replied. Carefully he eased himself free and Fin turned into his embrace, meeting his lips for a languid, loving kiss.

“Worth it?” Fin asked.

“Always. You?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Let’s get inside, you’re soaked in sweat and I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

Snuggling up under the covers right now did sound like a wonderful plan. Fin followed John inside, going to close the balcony door when suddenly he heard it. He couldn’t believe it.

His goddamned fucking phone. Amanda’s ringtone.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” John groaned. “At _this_ hour?”

“Hold on.”

“You’re not—”

“No, I’m not. But I am doing _this_.” Fin grabbed the phone off the nightstand and held it up for John to see. “Unless you want the honors.”

John grinned. “No, but I won’t stop you.”

Fin went back out to the balcony, John close behind him. He then took the phone and threw it as hard as he could into the dark night, off into the distance, where it could be swallowed by the Atlantic waters never to be seen—never to be _heard_ —ever the fuck again.

John slowly clapped his approval.

“Already backed up the photos on my Cloud. And I needed a damn upgrade anyway when I get home.” Fin said with a shrug, and then slipped back into John’s arms.

“I was wondering how many days that would take.”

“Too damn many. _Now_ let’s get some sleep.”

Climbing in to bed after turning off the lights, Fin asked, “Hey, you think we could see about changing our flight back, stay an extra couple nights on Puerto Rico?”

“I’m in no rush. You have the vacation days, why not make it a full two weeks?”

“Why the fuck not,” Fin agreed. Especially now that no one could even _attempt_ to reach him from back home. He smiled to himself and drifted off peacefully in John’s arms, knowing this would be the best night’s sleep he’d enjoyed all vacation.

* * *

Fin’s first day back at work, he entered the Sixteenth with a bounce in his step and a highly uncharacteristic silly grin on his face. Two weeks away from the routine really had been what he needed, just as John had said it would be. He felt relaxed, rested, and if it were in any way possible, more in love with his husband than he’d been even on the night John had finally suggested they tie the knot, several years before.

He couldn’t wait to give everyone their little gifts and share some more of his vacation photos with Rollins—that was, at least, _after_ he gave her a serious talking to about not leaving him alone. She had to understand: when he was off work, he was _off work_. There couldn’t be anything so important going on that she or anyone else from the squad couldn’t simply leave him alone for two weeks, right?

“Hey guys!” Fin said, cheerily coming in to the squad room. “Guess who’s back at last. Miss me?”

You could, for a moment, literally hear a pin drop in the expansive room. Amanda looked up at Fin, shooting daggers in his direction with her narrowed eyes. Carisi looked like a lost puppy dog, ready to run and hide in the corner of the room, whimpering. Sergeant Dodds stood in the entry to Liv’s office, a grim expression on his face yet also appearing too terrified to speak.

“Well if you’d _answer your damn phone, Fin,_ you might fucking know what’s going on!” Amanda yelled at him.

Fin sighed, sank down into his chair and dropped his bag of gifts to the ground. “That’s it. I’m calling John. We’re going back to the boat.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy fic soundtracks, you can find my "inspirational mix" for this story at 8tracks.com: [Incommunicado](http://8tracks.com/sockii/incommunicado). Basically the music I had on my mind as I was writing what you find here.


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